Leon. Force her hence. Paul. Let him, that makes but trifles of his eyes, First hand me: on mine own accord, I'll off; But, first, I'll do my errand.—The good queen, For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. Leon. [Laying down the child. Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door: A most intelligencing bawd! I am as ignorant in that, as you In so entitling me: and no less honest Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, As this world goes, to pass for honest. Leon. Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard:-Thou, dotard, [To Antigonus.] thou art womantir'd, unroosted By thy dame Partlet here,-take up the bastard; Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone. Paul. Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou For ever Tak'st up the princess, by that forced baseness Leon. He dreads his wife. Paul. So, I would, you did; then, 'twere past all doubt, You'd call your children yours. Leon. A nest of traitors! Nor I; nor any, Ant. I am none, by this good light. But one, that's here; and that's himself: for he The sacred honour of himself, his queen's, His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, Leon. A callat, Of boundless tongue; who late hath beat her hus band, And now baits me!-That brat is none of mine; It is the issue of Polixenes: Hence with it; and, together with the dam, Commit them to the fire. Paul. It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, The trick of his frown, his forehead: nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his smiles; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:And, thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow in't; lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's! Leon. A gross hag! And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, It is an heretick, that makes the fire, I care not: Not she, which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; But this most cruel usage of your queen (Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,) something savours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. Leon. Out of the chamber with her. On your allegiance, Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her. I'll be gone. Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I'll be Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send her A better guiding spirit!-What need these hands?— You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so:-Farewel; we are gone. [Exit. Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child? away with't!-even thou, that hast A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence, And see it instantly consum'd with fire; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight: Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, (And by good testimony,) or I'll seize thy life, For thou sett'st on thy wife. Ant. I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, 1 Lord. We can; my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. Leon. You are liars all. 1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech So to esteem of us: And on our knees we beg, (As recompence of our dear services, Past, and to come,) that you do change this purpose; Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foul issue: We all kneel. Leon. I am a feather for each wind that blows: Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel And call me father? Better burn it now, [To Antigonus. You, that have been so tenderly officious To save this bastard's life:-for 'tis a bastard, Ant. Any thing, my lord, That my ability may undergo, And nobleness impose: at least, thus much; Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this sword, Thou wilt perform my bidding. Ant. I will, my lord. Leon. Mark, and perform it; (seest thou?) for the fail Of any point in't shall not only be Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife; As by strange fortune Ant. I swear to do this; though a present death Had been more merciful.-Come on, poor babe: Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, To be thy nurses! Wolves, and bears, they say, Casting their savageness aside, have done Like offices of pity.-Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed does require! and blessing, Against this cruelty, fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit, with the child. |